


Balekin kisses better

by TheQueenofMirth



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Hurt, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenofMirth/pseuds/TheQueenofMirth
Summary: Jude has a sword, but words can cut deeper than blades.





	1. Chapter 1

He looks at her. There is no grin on his face. There is no hurt, anger or contempt. It is inhuman. And it makes her knees weak. What she feels is something that exists between fear and desire, something that shouldn't exist.

The sword hangs on her hand, useless. It's not even a good threat. And, when he kisses her, it slides between her fingers and hits the ground with a bang.

He kisses her with closed eyes, she sees that before close her own. The touch of his lips is soft against hers. Which differs from the way he pulls her against him. The kiss is given slowly and meticulously while the eagers hands seize her dress as if they intended to rip it off. The difference makes her dizzy.

She is the one that brakes the kiss to breathe, but he doesn't stop to kiss her - the corner of her lips, her jaw, her throat.

He whispers in her ear words that she had heard before, "You are mine."

"You talk like your brothers," the desire to hurt him surpass the shame, "but Balekin kisses better."


	2. Chapter 2

Mouth open, he freezes. A blow of warm breath reaches her ear, making her tremble. His hands are in her back, nails sinking. His voice is pure venom when he replies, “If you want to hurt me, you should have chosen Dain. That way, I could at least believe you.” He blows her ear again. This time, wittingly. She gasps.

Desire tingles through her body, which only serves to make her resent him. She wants to feel the anger and the jolt of adrenaline it provides. Desire makes her feel malleable and needy.

“He wanted to know how we kiss. So I showed him.”

He takes her chin forcing her to face him. This time she doesn’t want to. “You would never. Not _ him _ .” He sounds so _sure_.

“I’m kissing you right now, which is the difference?”

“Did you feel his heart racing against your chest? Did he savour your lips as if they were the sweetest things he ever had proved? Did he crave you more than anything else?” He says as if he resented her for that. She does not doubt it. “The difference between me and my brother is that I would never force you.” There is no way of knowing if he recognises the implication of his own statements or if he sees it in her eyes, but once he says it, he realises the truth. “_Undersea. _ ” It is just a word, a whisper. It’s not supposed to make her feel that way -- ashame, wound, _ alone -- _but it does. “You wanted me hurt?” His thumb caresses her cheek, cleaning it. Now his voice is kind. “Now I’m hurt.”

But she is the one crying.


End file.
